


great beings

by kurgaya



Series: RUMBLEBIRDS [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Gen, How Do I Tag, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Relationships, Reincarnation, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, but only kind of, just enough to make things complicated, look kakashi's confused and he has every right to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23155297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: “You’re the firebird?” Kakashi demands.Even the Nine-Tails’ power doesn’t compare to the sacred flame, the red-hot soul of the firebird. This frail-looking not-human may not seem like much but Kakashi sought the only fire capable of killing him and the Nine-Tails sent him here.[Magic!AU. A first (second) meeting between thunder and fire].
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Maito Dai | Might Duy, Hatake Kakashi & Maito Gai | Might Guy
Series: RUMBLEBIRDS [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1411576
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60





	great beings

**Author's Note:**

> **Concerning the tags** : Dai and Sakumo could've maybe? but didn't really? have a past romantic relationship, there was definitely pining involved, and now Sakumo's dead but also not really because he killed himself and accidentally? created a thunderbird who's basically him but also also not really him and that's Kakashi and Kakashi doesn't know who tf he is and he only kinda remembers Dai and just wants to die and actually Gai is also also _also_ kind of Dai too even though they're both alive at once and look it's a mess but that's a past-lives plot line for you, tf

I am inhabited by a cry.  
Nightly it flaps out  
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

I am terrified by this dark thing  
That sleeps in me;  
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

\-- _Elm_ by Sylvia Plath

The firebird has seen better days. Kakashi startles it, crashing out of the wilds like a lightning bolt, a storm at his heels, on his fingertips, in his chest bursting through. He stops just as fast, digging his claws into the soft, flowering earth. His body – his true body – barely fits into his little, human-like form, and Kakashi feels a shiver shake every single one of his feathers as the firebird turns around.

It’s small too – but bigger than Kakashi. In its human disguise, it looks nothing like a firebird: black hair, ageing skin, and a slowness about it that suggests an ill-health. Neither does it adorn itself in the colours of its crest. If anything, the firebird’s entirely green attire better suits a forest spirit, not a being of fire, of the stars. Something about the jumpsuit threatens to pull a smile to Kakashi’s lips but he shoves the feeling down.

“You’re the firebird?” he demands, as if there’s any doubt. It may _look_ like an ordinary human, but the air is thick with a smoke-like magic, ever-warm from the burning of ashes. Even the Nine-Tails’ power doesn’t compare to the sacred flame, the red-hot soul of the firebird. This frail-looking not-human may not seem like much – and truly, it doesn’t seem like much – but Kakashi sought the only fire capable of killing him and the Nine-Tails sent him _here_.

The firebird doesn’t answer. Water empties from the can in its hands, drowning the heavy-headed flowers. Its eyes are wide and bright even beneath the brim of its hat – too bright, and Kakashi looks away. Something in the firebird’s eyes… troubles him, but he doesn’t know what. He doesn’t dwell on it: he can’t. He doesn’t know this firebird and he doesn’t care for it, regardless of the tightness in his chest.

Its _feelings_ aren’t Kakashi’s problem.

“ _Hey_. You listening?”

“Of course,” the firebird says, finally righting the watering can. “I have always listened to you, my friend. It’s been some time - but not long enough to forget my manners!” It smiles, moustache lifting over a gentle mouth. It sets the watering can down as though Kakashi might spook: carefully, crouching slowly. The flowers lean towards its violently green outfit, hungry and fragile.

Kakashi feels the same and he hates it. He shakes the feeling away, flicking sparks from his fingers. The flowers seem _comforted_ by the solar magic. That same magic is a brand waiting to blister Kakashi’s skin; and he welcomes it. Needs it. Nothing else can burn away the storm inside of him – the one that follows him wherever he goes.

_Dai won’t do it_ , the storm whispers, swirling like the thoughts and feelings Kakashi knows aren’t his own. He is lightning and rain and _wind_ – and he was wind once before, a lifetime ago. The gale he used to command is the gale that threw him down and pushed him here. It wails unceasingly in his head, stirring lightning and things Kakashi would rather forget. _He will never hurt me_.

Kakashi doesn’t know a _Dai_ but it doesn’t matter. He stomps over to the firebird, lightning crackling from his hair. He has all the confirmation he needs. The firebird – _Dai_ , says the wind, quiet and sad – remains crouched in the flowerbed, but his smile only grows as Kakashi approaches. His face, young and old at once, lifts in expectation, and his enormous eyebrows rise up into coal-dark hair. Whatever expectations he has are a mystery to Kakashi; they are strangers, two beings set apart as far as the sky and the sea. Life and death. The forest is wise enough to know what they are, watching with trepidation. The flowers tremble within the clutches of Kakashi’s magic, frightened. Dai doesn’t: he is unafraid and yet the light of his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

His _wet_ eyes.

Kakashi fists his hand into Dai’s collar, twisting tight. _Kill me_ : the words surge up within him, storm and lightning. He’s so much smaller than Dai but he’s not afraid. The winds frighten him, the voices, and the things he does but doesn’t remember. Death will take all those things away.

“You –”

“ _Hey_! Get away from my papa!”

Dai tries to jerk away but Kakashi holds tight: it’s a mistake. He turns towards the shout, to the blur of green amongst the cowering yellow. He sees amber-green feathers and gold before a burst of fire _blinds_ him. Lightning surges to his palms and he lashes out, reaches, _strikes_ – and Dai’s hand closes around his arm, sun magic smothering the storm.

Now it’s Kakashi who tries to jerk away - but Dai holds tight. He pulls Kakashi into his chest, his voice rising like a dawn over Kakashi’s head, calm and warm. It doesn’t help. Kakashi struggles to free himself, to distance himself from the Dai’s magic. His own magic is quiet under his skin, frighteningly so. It’s a gale that never ceases and yet it ceases in the sunbird’s light. It would be comforting were it not the antithesis of Kakashi’s being - of his creation, thrown down into misery from a thunderous storm. He doesn’t know _quiet_ , he doesn't know how to gentle. He pushes against Dai’s chest. He shrieks and tears away. He sees a flash of gold again and a dim, setting light, and then the chicken charging across the garden _throws_ itself at Kakashi, knocking them prone.

It shrieks, flapping wings of a thousand colours. Cinders flick from its feathers with every swat against Kakashi's face. He raises his arms to protect his head from the chicken's furious beak, eyes screwed shut.

"Gai, my boy, that's enough," Dai says, hoisting the flaming chicken away. It squirms in his grasp, talons swiping for Kakashi. "Your courage is amenable but unnecessary, I'm afraid. This is an old friend of mine!"

Kakashi scrambles to his feet. He risks a glance at his wounds, too surprised to comprehend the pain. Burns and blood blotching his arms. Then he looks to Dai and what must not be a chicken but a _phoenix_ , and the realisation punches the breath from his chest. _There’s another_. His gasp draws a concerned look from Dai, but it’s the littler phoenix that commands Kakashi’s attention.

He could be forgiven for mistaking it for a chicken. It’s about the right size, small and round with two spindly, orange legs. There are _actual_ chickens near the shack-of-a-house too, clucking and pecking from a safe distance away. Some of them watch with a barely-sentient interest, their heads bobbing randomly. Unlike these real chickens, Gai’s body scatters fire with every twitch of his wings. His _eight_ wings. Each pair differs in size and they all gleam in an array of colours: reds and golds, but greens and blues too. Kakashi can see why phoenix feathers are highly sought after – and he wonders how he knows this, and why it fills him with dread.

“He was hurting you,” Gai argues, with all the stubbornness of a child. His tail-feathers drape long and magnificent from Dai’s arms. Kakashi wonders how old he is and how he came to be. _It was only ever Dai_ , says the wind, back in Kakashi’s ears, but even that sounds unsure.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle!” Dai assures. He hoists Gai up triumphantly over the basking sunflowers. “Although the lightning magic certainly surprised me! As did you, rushing to my rescue!”

“Hardly a rescue,” Kakashi mutters.

“I could’ve taken him! He’s only little, right Papa?” cries Gai, ruffling his feathers with pride.

“You shouldn’t judge an opponent by their size,” Dai admonishes, perhaps noticing the twitch of Kakashi’s jaw. “The Great Beings of our world may not appear as you expect them.”

“A Great Being?” Gai echoes, now staring at Kakashi with wonder. He sticks out a wing like a handshake. The flowers wobble in his shadow, trying to reach him. “You must be strong! I’m Gai and I’m a firebird! What’re you?”

Kakashi doesn’t approach. He clenches his fists and glowers at Dai. It seems unlikely he’ll be able to intimidate an answer from a firebird – except Dai looks like a strong breeze will bowl him over. Maybe it _is_ possible to intimidate him. That annoying voice in the back of Kakashi’s mind stirs with worry but he ignores it.

“He’s my dear friend,” Dai tells his son. “One I had hoped you would meet! Granted, I imagined your introduction going a little differently -”

“I’m not your friend,” Kakashi snaps. “I don’t know you; I’ve never met you.”

_He’s my only friend_ , says the storm-magic.

_Shut up,_ Kakashi thinks at it. _Just shut up!_

Gai seems equally dubious. He flashes through moods as fast as the light from his wings. He flicks his head around to Dai. “Papa, are you _sure_?”

Dai laughs and sets his son down. “As sure as I am of the sun!” He strikes what is likely meant to be a reassuring pose, if Gai’s glee is anything to go by. Then he sits down in the mud, the flowers turning towards him. He plonks his hat onto Gai’s head and it’s comically large.

Kakashi scoffs and looks back towards the Nara forest, to the shadows that chased him here. His magic bursts under his skin, urging him to stay away. If Dai won’t do what Kakashi asks, then at least he can throw himself to the woods. It can’t kill him, but maybe it wouldn’t matter once it’s had its way.

“I would recognise you anywhere, my friend,” Dai says to Kakashi. He looks older without the hat, somehow, as though the sun that’s supposed to sustain him is burning him away. “Why don’t you join me? I find gardening to be quite relaxing! I’m sure you have a tale to tell.”

Kakashi doesn’t budge. He watches Gai flap around with the stupid hat and feels something dark and envious rises up within him. Dai’s unflappable cheer twists it into contempt. Why had he listened to the Nine-Tails? Why was he wasting his time with these _losers_? Foxfire should’ve been enough to put Kakashi out of his misery; he wouldn’t even resist, wouldn’t fight it, wouldn’t care! How hard can it be to find something to kill him when even the forest deer want him dead?

“The fox said I should –”

“The fox?” Gai echoes, head bobbing under the massive straw hat. If he clucks, he really will look as stupid as the chickens. “You mean the _Nine-Tails_? You’ve seen it? You really must be a Great Being! What did you go and see it for – did you promise it anything? Papa says –”

Kakashi kicks the hat from Gai’s head and into the dirt. “I don’t care what your Papa says!” He whirls to Dai, hot air sucking in sharp through his nose. His wings tremble, seconds from bursting free. He should show Dai what he’s become and _prove_ he’s worth killing. “The Nine-Tails told me to find the most powerful fire magic. It _has_ to be you.”

Dai’s face doesn’t darken - being a phoenix, it might be impossible - but at once, his smile drops. He turns away from Kakashi to watch Gai chase the hat across the grass, and when he turns back, he is troubled.

Kakashi crosses his arms, bracing himself. Dai must not want to kill him in front of Gai. _Or at all_ , says the wind, but Kakashi shushes it.

“I may not be as powerful as you remember,” Dai says - but that only matters if he’s not powerful _enough_. He laughs self-deprecatingly, fussing with his moustache. The _wrongness_ of it has Kakashi shuffling his feet with an emotion as restless as the lightning within him. He doesn’t want to name it - whatever it is.

“You were always so cautious,” Dai continues, lowering his voice. Across the yard, Gai is squabbling with the chickens for possession of the hat, oblivious. “The Nine-Tails is a dangerous creature. If you needed help -” He hesitates. There’s a victorious shout from the house but neither of them turn to look. “My door has always been open to you.”

Dai’s eyes are sad and knowing and Kakashi feels panic claw up his throat. His gaze darts towards the forest, considering his options. He’s sure the Nine-Tails is laughing from its timeless, off-centre place in the world.

“I don’t need your _help_ ,” he snaps, bristling. Dai’s voice is wobbling and he _hates_ it but he doesn’t understand _why_. They’ve never met before and yet - and yet something about this conversation is familiar, and _everything_ about this garden feels like a place he’s come home to before.

He needs to leave. Right now. If he lingers, the winds may never blow again and carry him away. If the storm passes, if he _stays_ …

_If he doesn’t kill me_ , Kakashi thinks, _what then?_

“Forget it.” He forces the words from his mouth. They stick in his throat like tar, like the blood that spilled black and thick with his dying breath. He remembers how it tasted on his teeth; how it felt dripping down his lips and slipping on the blade in his hands.

It hurt, Kakashi remembers. It hurt so much he still has the lightning under his skin.

“Sakumo?”

Kakashi jerks back, out of Dai’s reach. He trips on a pail and it clatters like thunder across the garden, like a thousand lightning bolts striking true. He scrambles away with a storm-haste, releasing his magic with the cold clap of thunderwind. There’s a shout - two shouts, and a dozen terrified shrieks of the forest animals as Kakashi takes flight - and then all he knows is the rain he pulls around him and the sorrowful wail of the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you know how hard it was not to write _what did the fox say?_ at any point during this fic.


End file.
